


Random Stories

by smolderingashs



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Gallavich Week, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-28
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-15 03:57:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2214900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smolderingashs/pseuds/smolderingashs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These are the 4 stories I posted on my tumblr account during Gallavich Week, but since I just got an AOO account, I thought I'd re-post them here. I'm putting them all together, but they really aren't related except for the characters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Past, Present, Future

**Author's Note:**

> So, I rarely (and by that I mean this is my first time) write fanfiction. But, in honor of Gallavich week, I thought I’d give it a try. So, below is my attempt at day 2, future fics. And, there really is some dialogue in there somewhere, it just is somewhere near the bottom. And feel free to critique as much as you'd like. 
> 
> This one is a little angsty, but it perks up near the end.

If there was one thing his illness had taught him, it was that it was better to not hope. Hope was an uncontrollable, dizzying high that spiraled upwards and upwards until all hope was lost and there was nowhere to go but down, crashing to the ground in a broken heap with no way to put yourself back together. If the highs weren’t so high, the lows wouldn’t feel so low, he told himself.

Some people, those without diseased minds, uncontrollable moods, broken, battered thoughts, those people can regulate. They can want what they want and believe they can get it and if they are right they are satisfied and if they are wrong they move on. But not Ian.

At first it was intoxicating. That belief. That knowledge that everything he ever wanted could come true. If only he was patient enough. If only he waited long enough. And what he wanted most, more than West Point, more than the army, was love. And not just any love. He wanted, maybe even needed, Mickey’s love.

So with every scrap of affection he got, he saw everything he wanted coming true. The visions of his future, their future, grew until one slight look from Mickey meant that they would be together forever, nobody would bother them, they would be happy. Life would be perfect.

Rationally, he knew nothing was ever perfect, and in their world, this was even truer. He knew that no matter how hard he pictured it, how hard he believed it, the most they would ever get would be to carve out some semblance of happiness in a shitty world. Rationally, he knew this. But his fucked up brain didn’t allow rationality. There was no place for common sense when you were flying on a high so euphoric that you knew nothing was ever going to stop it.

Mickey invited him to sleep over. And Ian knew it meant Mickey loved him. But then his dad caught them, and Mickey wouldn’t talk to him. Mickey kissed him and sighed contentedly beneath him. And Ian knew it meant Mickey chose him. Over his dad. Over Svetlana. Over everyone. But then he walked down the aisle and got married. Ian told Mickey he was leaving and Mickey let out a strangled ‘Don’t’. And Ian knew he would finally say it. Finally acknowledge what they had. But then he turned away. And Ian knew he could no longer allow himself to hope when it came to Mickey. Because hoping for Mickey just meant crashing into hopelessness when Mickey didn’t want him back. 

He left. If he couldn’t have love, he would have honor and glory. He knew that the army would be different. That this would be where he found happiness. And when he didn’t find what he was looking for, when his dream still didn’t match the reality, he learned that he could no longer allow himself to hope for anything. So he sunk himself into a life he didn’t want. It was easier than wishing for a life he couldn’t have.

But then Mickey came and saved him. He stayed with him. He kissed him. He admitted they were a couple, but Ian didn’t allow himself to believe that it meant anything. He had learned his lesson well.

And then Mickey came out. For Ian. There was no denying it was for Ian. It would be so easy to believe. To want. To dream. But it had always seemed easy. It had always seemed possible. But it never was.

Ian allowed himself to slip into the darkness. It was too exhausting to fight it. And if he held out against it, it would only be that much worse when the inevitable occurred, when, one way or another, he lost Mickey again. So he let it consume him until there was nothing left. No hope. No happy future. Maybe no future at all. After all, the voices, the voices that always seemed to be present, they told him he had never had happiness because he had never deserved happiness. And he would never be happy, because he would never be worth happiness. So what was the point?

But Mickey fought for him, even when Ian wouldn’t. Took him to doctors. Made sure he got his medicine. Waited on him hand and foot. And one day the darkness didn’t seem so dark. The world didn’t pass in a cloudy haze. He felt like he was living. He felt like happiness wasn’t impossible. But the one thing his life had taught him was the importance of moderation.

He could love Mickey. But he couldn’t let that love consume him. He could appreciate all the things Mickey did for him. He could allow himself to believe it meant something. But he couldn’t let those feelings control him. He couldn’t go back to the darkness. He couldn’t fall again. And the only way to avoid that fate was to stay out of the sun, to stick close to the ground.

Mickey knew things were not the same. As far as he knew, Ian was better. Ian was himself. He seemed to be himself. He laughed the way he used to laugh. He talked the way he used to talk. He said he felt better than he had felt in a long time. And Mickey believed him. But something was definitely different. There was something holding Ian back from him. And Mickey thought he knew what it was. After everything Mickey had done for him, Ian felt obligated to stay with him, but he no longer wanted him.

Mickey knew he was in love with Ian, he had known it for a long time. And there was nothing he wanted more than to be with Ian, but not like this. Not if it wasn’t what Ian wanted. He was selfish, but not when it came to Gallagher. Or maybe he was. He wanted Ian, but he wanted all of Ian. And if he couldn’t have it all, he wouldn’t have any of it.

“Ian?” Mickey didn’t know how to start. He hated talking about feelings in general, but especially when the expected outcome was going to be suffocatingly horrible.

Ian sat on the couch watching some crappy show. At Mickey’s voice, he looked up and smiled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. His eyes were always guarded. Mickey knew what a real Ian smile looked like.

“Hey man,” Mickey started hesitantly, “we need to talk.”

Ian turned off the television at Mickey’s serious tone. Mickey had been acting distant all week, clearly working up to say something that he didn’t want to have to say. Ian hadn’t pushed him, he didn’t think he wanted to hear it any more than Mickey wanted to say it. This was it, he thought to himself, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He knew it would end. He told himself Mickey wouldn’t want him forever. He thought he had prepared himself for the inevitable. Yet, now that the time had come, he realized that even though he hadn’t given in to the soaring high, he was still going to crash into a heap at Mickey’s feet. Again. 

“What’s up?” Ian scooted over, making room for his boyfriend on the couch.

“I…um…Ian.” He stopped talking and just looked at Ian. He looked tired and sad and maybe even a little sick from stress and worry. The boys sat there for what seemed like a lifetime staring into each other’s eyes. Both too afraid to start the conversation.

Ian finally asked, “Do you want me to leave?” at the exact same time Mickey said, “You don’t have to stay with me if you don’t want to.”

“What?” They asked in unison.

Ian’s heart was racing. Waiting for Mickey to continue.

“I’d understand. I would. After everything I did to you. You know. Before you came back. I’d understand. I promise.”

“What are you talking about, Mick?”

“I don’t want you to feel like you fucking owe me anything. Like you have to stay here because I helped you, or whatever. I just…I want you to be happy, or something, man. And if it isn’t with me. Then I guess that’s okay. Just. Well. Just please leave now. You know. Because the longer you wait, the more…the more it’s gonna fucking hurt.”

He looked down when he was through talking both because he was embarrassed by his girly speech, for opening up his heart in a way that he had never wanted to do and because he was afraid to see how Ian would react.

Ian sat in shock.

“You think I want to leave. You think I’m the one that’s gonna go?”

Mickey looked back up.

“I don’t know. I mean, you haven’t really been yourself even since you got all your shit together. Not around me anyway. You seem happy sometimes, but it isn’t really…it doesn’t seem…I don’t know. It just seems like you aren’t happy with us.”

“Mickey, I always want to be with you. I..I” he tried to choke back his tears, “its just that it hurts. You know. Wanting something more than anything. Wanting it so badly that it almost seems in your head and your heart like you already have it. You fool yourself into believing it exists, and then it’s ripped right out from underneath you and you’re left with nothing. I can’t…I don’t want to let myself hope this time. I just can’t keep telling myself that you’re going to love me or you’re going to want me to stick around because when I find out it’s all just make believe…I can’t have you and lose you again, Mick. I just can’t.”

Mickey didn’t know how to react at first. He let his boyfriend’s words sink in. It wasn’t good, he thought, but it wasn’t the worst. He could maybe fix this. He put his hands on either side of Ian’s face.

“Hey, dumbass. Look at me.” He waited until Ian opened his eyes and met his stare. “Quit with this future shit. You don’t gotta tell yourself that I’m gonna love you or want you or any other gay ass romantic shit you have goin on up there. I do love you and I do want you and that ain’t gonna change. So accept it, and let’s move on.”

He waited until he saw some vague form of understanding in Ian’s eyes. He waited until some dawning of the truth crossed Ian’s eyes. He waited until a real smile, an Ian smile, lit up the features of the face he loved so much. Only then did he think to himself that maybe he didn’t have to worry so much. Maybe they were fine after all.

“You love me?” Ian asked softly.

“Who else would I work so hard for, asshole? Of course I do. I didn’t think I even needed to say it.”

Ian smiled his smile again, a real one reserved only for Mickey.

“I love you too.”

“Yeah. Well you better, bitch.” Mickey said in a voice that might not sound happy to any outside listeners but that Ian finally accepted as loving. He leaned over and kissed Mickey in a way that he hadn’t since before his crash.

One day, he might realize that hope wasn’t bad. He might be able to dream big dreams again without worrying that it would only lead to devastation. But right now, he didn’t need hope. Hope was for the future. It was wanting something and expecting something that you didn’t have. Ecstasy only caused by something you might get wasn’t real, it only led to a false sense of security. It only led to despair. But he had Mickey. That was his reality, not some farfetched dream. And being satisfied with what you have, that is true happiness.


	2. Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was Day 3: Jealousy...as if you couldn't figure out that from the title.

Sometimes Mickey hated the Gallaghers. Well, most of the time Mickey hated the Gallaghers. They were noisy, bossy assholes who couldn’t keep their noses out of Ian’s business, which in turn meant they couldn’t keep their noses out of Mickey’s business. So, most of the time he hated the Gallaghers, but sometimes he hated them for a different reason.

 

“Carl, get down here. You need to eat so you can get to school,” Fiona yelled up the stairs as she packed lunches for the kids. Lip sat at the table feeding Liam while Debbie yammered on about something or another that Mickey had less than no interest in. He sat in the living room waiting for Ian to come home from his run, and discreetly watched the family interact.

Carl ran down the stairs grabbing his lunch, a piece of toast, and his bag before starting to run out the door.

“Hey,” Fiona yelled as Lip grabbed the back of his jacket, “sit down and eat. Why are you in such a rush? I’m guessing you aren’t in that much of a hurry to get to school.”

“Get off my ass,” Carl muttered, gaining a slap in the back of the head from Lip. Fiona just looked at the boy disapprovingly before asking,

“So, where did ya think you were going?”

“I have some business I’ve gotta take care of,” was his noncommittal answer.

“Yeah? Well unless it’s school work or adding something to the squirrel fund, you don’t get to have business until you’re 15.”

“15 seems arbitrary to me. Where did you come up with that?” Lip asked as he cleaned up Liam.

“I don’t know. But he’s too young to have ‘business’ now.”

“I don’t know if he’s too young, but he’s definitely too Carl. What exactly is this business you got planned?”

Both of his older siblings stared at him expectantly. Carl put his head down, an obstinate look crossing his face as he did so.

“None of your damn business.”

“Hey!” the pair said at once.

“You are my business,” Fiona told him, grabbing onto his shoulder, “and anyway, you don’t have time to be doing anything now. You’ve got to get to school or you’re gonna be late. Again. I don’t want the principal calling and chewing me out for the third time this week.”

“Why do I gotta go anyway? It’s not like I’m gonna graduate. You didn’t. Ian didn’t. Even Lip barely did, and he’s the smartest person I know. I might as well quit now and start making money.”

“How are you gonna do that, huh?” Lip asked. “Start selling? Robbing banks?” Carl looked away guiltily at that, thinking of Bonnie.

“You aren’t droppin out,” Fiona chose as her argument, “I’m tired of all of you threatening me with that. You’re all going to graduate whether you want to or not. Even Ian,” as she said this, she looked questioningly at Mickey who tried to look as if he wasn’t listening.

“Whatever,” Carl stammered out, but he grabbed a couple of school books off the table and slammed them into his bag.

“Thank you,” Fiona told him and kissed the top of his head. Lip gave him a one-armed hug, holding Liam in his other arm.

“Come on, Debbie,” Carl yelled grumpily, “let’s get this over with.”

The red-head rolled her eyes as she put her plate in the sink, but grabbed her bag and went towards the door. Before she exited, she turned back to Lip.

“You’re still gonna help me with my research paper tonight, right?” she asked him.

“I told you I would, didn’t I?” a huge smile crossed her face.

“Thanks Lip! Love ya,” she told him, giving him a big hug, squashing Liam in the process.

“Sorry, little man,” she murmured, kissing his nose, before turning once more to leave.

“Hey Debs?” Fiona asked. The girl stopped, the door half open. “I’m gonna be a little late tonight. I’ll be back before eight, but could you make something for dinner for everybody?”

“Yeah, I’ll figure something out as long as Lip is workin on that paper for me.”

“Thanks.”

Carl and Debbie exited as Ian walked into the kitchen, and they said bye and have a good day before the kids disappeared.

“Hey, Ian!” Fiona said, truly happy to see him. “I made your favorite. Come sit down and eat.” Ian grinned his big grin that Mickey loved before grabbing a plate. Mickey thought about saying something, letting Ian know he was there, but he didn’t want to interrupt the family gathering.

Lip put Liam down and grabbed Ian around the neck, putting him in a chokehold, making Ian laugh.

“You take your meds, man?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ian said in a sarcastic tone, “don’t worry about it, mom.”

“Well, I’m gonna worry about it, whatever you say. You’re my brother, and I love you, okay?”

“I know, I know,” Ian said, grinning in spite of himself.

“And if he doesn’t worry enough, trust me, I will.” Fiona told him, filling up his plate.

Sometimes Mickey hated the Gallaghers. He would watch them, and it just wasn’t fair. They had grown up in the same shitty town with similar shitty parents and no chance of escaping. Their life should have been the same as Mickey’s. But somehow it wasn’t. He watched them interact: caring about each other, protecting each other, loving each other. And not being ashamed to admit it. How could a bunch of mini-Frank’s turn out like this? It just wasn’t fair. And Mickey thought he just might hate them for it.

What would his life have been, he thought, if he had had that? Even if his father wasn’t there for them, like Frank was never there for his kids, what if his brothers and Mandy had just been there for each other? And not just for the occasional drug run. Yeah, he and Mandy were close, but it still wasn’t the same. It wasn’t Gallagher closeness.

If he had had that, he might have been a different person, more open, less on edge. He might have even been the type of guy who actually deserved to be with Ian.

Mickey realized he was jealous. He was jealous of Ian. And he was mad that anybody could make him feel any bad feelings when it came to his ginger.

He was jealous of Fiona, Debbie, Carl, and Liam. He was even jealous of fucking Lip. Yeah, Lip was an asshole, but he was an asshole who loved his family to the point where he was willing to take a hit for his brother if that’s what needed to be done. Mickey didn’t have a Lip, and as much as he hated him, he wouldn’t have minded having a brother he could actually rely on.

Ian finally noticed Mickey sitting there, and his face lit up. He took his plate and came to sit next to the older boy, putting his arm around his shoulder.

“Hey, Mick,” he said contentedly. 

“Hey,man,” Mickey replied, leaning into his touch, trying not to worry about Fiona and Lip watching them.

Lip picked Liam back up and headed out the door, but not before putting his hand on Mickey’s shoulder, making him jump.

“Fair warning,” Lip told him, “Frank was here when you were out yesterday. He was talkin a lot of trash about you stayin here. I put him in his place, but I thought I should prepare you for when he comes back. Cause he will come back.”

Mickey stared at him dumbfounded for a second before thanking him somewhat begrudgingly and then watching him leave. He looked back at Ian who looked as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. As if Lip defending Mickey and warning him of impending problems was just an everyday occurrence.

Then it was Fiona’s turn to leave. She grabbed her stuff and headed towards the door.

“Okay, Ian, I know you’ll be back before 8. How about you, Mickey?”

“Yeah…I guess. Why?” he asked suspicious of Fiona’s motives.

“It’s Gallagher movie night.”

“So?”

“So? So, dummy. All family has to be there.”

“What’s that gotta do with me?”

She rolled her eyes.

“Just make sure you’re home by 8, okay? I want the whole family here.”

And then she was gone. Mickey watched her go in wonder. Ian leaned into him with a happy smile on his face, still not shocked by anything going on around him. Like he wasn’t even surprised that his family was treating Mickey like family.

It was like being with Ian meant getting Ian’s family, and their annoying, overbearing, bossy protection and love. It meant finally having a family he could rely on. Maybe it was just one more thing that made openly being with Ian the best decision Mickey had ever made.

And maybe Mickey didn’t really hate the Gallaghers after all.


	3. Hurt/Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, I’m bipolar, and weird as I know this is, Ian’s issue in this is something that also really bugs me.
> 
> Day 4...

Mickey never wanted to be needed by anyone. If someone needed something, especially if they needed that something from Mickey, it most likely meant something bad had happened to someone Mickey cared enough about to want to help.

Mandy needed him when guys made the dumbass mistake to mess with her. His dad needed him when he wanted to scare some shithead who tried to pull one over on a Milkovich. His brothers needed him when they were having trouble collecting money in a drug deal gone bad. Even asshole Lip needed him, albeit only as part of a large group, to help when that pedophile had moved into the neighborhood.

So, Mickey never wanted to be needed by anyone, but mostly he never wanted to be needed by Ian.

 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want Ian to come to Mickey first when times were hard. It’s just that he didn’t want Ian to ever be in need.

It sometimes, however, seemed that Ian was always needing him. He needed Mickey to comfort him when his mom came back. He needed Mickey to protect him from Terry. He needed Mickey to stop him from leaving. He needed Mickey to come rescue him when he did. He just. Needed Mickey.

And, even though he hated when Ian needed anything, Mickey still did his best to be there for him in every way possible when a need did arise. Sure, sometimes he failed; after all, he hadn’t stopped Ian from leaving. But for the most part, he felt he was doing a pretty good job. At least as good a job as he thought someone like him could do.

So, when Ian got sick, it was a no-brainer for Mickey. He didn’t understand how everyone didn’t get that. Of course he was going to take care of Ian. How could he not? He knew it was what Ian would expect because Mickey was always the one the red-head came to when he had a problem. And he knew if he could talk, he would say it was Mickey that he wanted. 

Mickey set up watch over the ginger from the moment Fiona had left. He was going to heal him if it was the last thing he did. And when Ian didn’t get better, Mickey readily accepted that sometimes helping meant getting the person you love the help they need. Which is why one morning he dragged Ian to a clinic and got him in to a doctor.

Several months, many pill combinations, and a lot of therapy later, Ian was doing a lot better. Except for when it came to the alarm.

The pair had quickly learned the importance of taking the pills at the same time every day. They also learned that it was really fucking hard to remember to take them at exactly that time. So, Ian set an alarm on his phone that went off at the same time every morning and night.

Hear the alarm, take a pill. Alarm. Pill. Alarm. Pill. Every. Single. Day.

Mickey was in the kitchen when he heard a frustrated yell and a loud crash. He ran back into their bedroom to see Ian pouting on the bed, staring at the wall.

“What was that noise, Gallagher?” Mickey questioned. “Are you alright?”

Ian just sighed and pointed towards the corner of the room. Mickey looked over to see Ian’s phone lying on top of a pile of clothes. A scratch on the wall indicated that the phone had been thrown. Mickey carefully went to pick it up, examining it closely for signs of a crack. When he was satisfied there were none, he turned back to Ian.

“The fuck?” he asked around the cigarette in his mouth. “What’s your problem, Pouty?”

“I’m crazy,” Ian said in a calm, even voice.

“You aren’t crazy.” Ian just ignored him.

“I have to go to a clinic regularly just to make sure I’m not losing my mind again.”

Mickey threw his smoke in the tray on the nightstand before grabbing another one, realizing he was going to need a lot of stress reduction if he had to make it through another emotionally charged conversation. Ian just kept on with his list of problems.

“My whole family constantly worries about me and treats me like a piece of breakable glass.”

“It’s called caring.” Mickey tried to reason with him.

“I can’t function like a normal human being without taking fucking pills every single day for the rest of my life.”

“Hey, that sucks, but it takes like two seconds, you’ll get used to it.” Mickey walked towards Ian and sat down on the bed so he could rub his back.

“But do you know what the worst part is?” Ian continued. ”Worse than everything I just said?”

“What?”

“If I have to hear that damn alarm go off one more time, I’m going to go crazy for real. It’s like that dog experiment. I don’t remember what it’s called. Lip would know. The one where the dogs start to drool whenever the bell goes off just because they are used to being fed when they hear it. Every time I hear a phone ring or an alarm clock or even a fucking car alarm, I think it’s time for my meds. And I’m going to have to listen to it for the rest of my life.”

Mickey didn’t know how to respond. He did, though, realize that relieved laughter probably wasn’t the right response. This was a problem he could handle.

“Is that all you’re worried about?”

Ian groaned.

“I know. I’m nuts. But I can’t seem to help it. It just really messes with my head.”

“I’m not sayin there’s anything wrong with fuckin feeling like that. I’m just thinkin it’s somethin that’s easy to fix.”

Ian looked at him skeptically.

“How?”

“I’ll set an alarm so you can turn off yours. When it goes off, I’ll tell you. If I’m not with you, I’ll call or text. Then, instead of hearing a shitty alarm, you’ll hear me. And hopefully you don’t start to get sick of hearing me.”

“I wouldn’t!” Ian said almost before Mickey could get the words out. He sat thinking for a second before adding, “But then you’d have to hear it every day. Trust me, you’re gonna regret this offer.”

“Nah, I won’t. You’ve got enough to deal with. If you need me to fucking listen to a dumbass alarm twice a day, I can handle it. It’s not a big deal. Besides, when you hear the alarm, you think of pills. When I hear the alarm, I’ll think of you.” Ian smiled softly at this rare romantic comment.

“But that’s only a short-term solution. I’m probably gonna be on these pills, or at least some type of pill, for the rest of my life. At least off and on.”

“Yeah? Well, I can’t promise you won’t ever hear the alarm go off again because sometimes you’ll be with me when it does. But I can promise you that I’m not fuckin goin anywhere, so if you need me for this or for anything, I’m there. Just let me know.”

Ian sat stunned and touched for a second before laughing.

"Thanks, Mick. That means a lot. And if you’re serious about what you said, then I should tell you - I do need you. Right now." He took the cigarette out of Mickey’s mouth and put it out before pushing Mickey onto the bed and straddling him.

Mickey decided that sometimes he didn’t mind when Ian needed him.


	4. Breakfast in Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> GW Day 7 - Was I Just Invited to a Sleepover?
> 
> This one is a little closer to sexual than the other ones. But I can't do anything close to actual smut, so it's really like PG possibly PG-13 sexual illusions. Still, thought I'd give a little warning.

“I’m hungry.”

“Well, get up and go make breakfast.”

Mickey turned towards Ian, burying his face into the ginger’s neck. He threw his arm around the younger boy’s waist deciding that being cute and cuddly, though against his nature, was the best weapon in his arsenal to get what he wanted.

“Iaann…”he whined, “I’m tired. I don’t wanna move. Why don’t you please go make us both breakfast. And then you can bring it in here.”

Ian laughed at the hopefulness in Mickey’s voice, but still wasn’t convinced.

“Well, I don’t want to get up either,” he told him, “why don’t you go make me breakfast?”

“Come on! I’m asking you to make me breakfast in bed. Breakfast in bed, Ian. You know you love all that romantic bullshit. This is your chance.” He said the last with a big yawn.

“I do, but I really, really love when you do the romantic bullshit. I do it all the time.”

“Yeah, but usually I hate it when you do that shit. I’ll love it today. I promise.”

“That’s really sweet, Mick,” Ian told him in a sarcastic tone, ”but I’m still not moving. It’s your turn to do something nice for me. Remember: I cooked dinner last night and did the dishes. Now, you have to cook for me.”

“So! I had to do laundry.”

“Wow! You just threw the clothes in the washer and then tossed them in the dryer after. I’m not impressed.”

“Fuck off! That washer’s shit. It ain’t as easy as just throwin it in, and you know it.”

Ian just gave him a look.

“Fine, Ian. You did more. But still…if you get up and do it today, I’ll make it the next three days.”

“I’m not falling for that. I’d get up today, and then you’d ‘forget’ all about it by tomorrow. Don’t forget who you’re talking to. I know you better than anyone, so you can’t fool me.”

Mickey groaned in frustration. The pair laid there at an impasse, neither one wanting to give in to the other.

Finally, Ian pulled himself out from underneath his boyfriend’s arms and rolled Mickey underneath him. He leaned down to slowly kiss his jaw, then neck, going lower and lower until he was right above his hip.

Mickey moaned, his hands in Ian’s hair, as he tried to push him lower, but Ian stopped and lifted his head.

“Come on, don’t be a tease, Gallagher,” Mickey begged.

Ian looked up at him with big eyes and a wicked smile.

“If you get up and go cook, I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

“So, you’re sayin we ain’t gonna fuck if I don’t get up. That just hurts you, too. You want it just as much as me, so I’m gonna get fuckin laid no matter what. Remember, I know you just as damn well as you know me,” Mickey said, pulling himself up on his elbows and grinning down at the redhead before biting his lip and raising his eyebrows seductively. Ian laughed and shook his head.

“You’re probably right. Buut” he whispered, dragging out the word for emphasis, “imagine how much better my stamina would be if I was working on a full stomach. Without food, I’m gonna be so weak. I probably won’t have the strength to go very hard. And you know how hard you like it, Mick.” He said it in a sad tone as if he felt bad for Mickey and what he’d be missing.

Mickey wiped his hand over his face, knowing Ian was right.

“Fuck that. You win. I’ll get up. But don’t expect nothing fancy. It’s cereal and maybe toast if I have the energy. But I probably won’t.”

“Mickey,” Ian said in a voice that usually got him his way, “I’m starving. I want you to actually cook something for me.”

“Don’t push your fuckin luck there, Cinderella. Now get off of me so I can get to the kitchen.”

Ian smiled in triumph before standing to let his boyfriend up.

Mickey grinned and laid his head back onto the pillow.

“There, now, ya see. You managed to get up. And since you’re up already, ya might as well just do it. It ain’t like you’re gonna fall back asleep.” With that, he settled in and closed his eyes expecting Ian to eventually bring him breakfast.

Ian wasn’t having it, though. He watched as Mickey fell back into unconsciousness before yanking the pillow out from underneath him, hitting the brunette in the head with it, and then dragging him by the arm until they were standing side by side.

“Like I’m gonna be your maid while you just lay there and sleep, dummy,” Ian told him. “And now you’re up too.” Ian looked down at him with a look that said ‘I dare you to argue with me.’ “Anyway, since we’re both up, we can just do it together.” 

But then Mickey smiled and pushed Ian back onto the mattress before rolling over him and grabbing his phone from the nightstand.

“I have a better idea, tough guy,” he told Ian before shooting off a quick text and then closing his eyes. Ian didn’t even bother to ask; he just laid his head on Mickey’s chest and waited.

A little while later, Mandy barged in with a plate full of runny eggs, burnt bacon, and unbuttered toast.

“Hey assholes,” she said in a grumpy voice that was trademark Milkovich, “here’s your food. Don’t bother me again with your shit.”

“Thanks, Mands,” Ian smiled up at her as Mickey slowly woke back up. He stared at the plate for a second before saying,

“Don’t thank her, man. This looks like shit.”

“Then you should’ve got up and made it yourself, douchebag. And you’d better make good on your promise, or I will kill you for this.”

“Yeah, whatever, I promise.”

Mandy rolled her eyes and turned to leave.

“Yo, wait!” Mickey yelled at her back. “Where are the forks, bitch?”

Mandy just flipped him off and walked out the door.

Ian started scooping the eggs up with his toast before stopping to ask, “What’d ya promise her anyway?”

“Only that if she brought us breakfast she wouldn’t have to hear us after,” Mickey informed him around a mouth full of food while wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“What?! I’d rather have made my own breakfast than agree to that. I love when you get really loud.”

Mickey chuckled as the pair finished off the food.

“Don’t worry. She made a half-assed breakfast; we’ll make a half-assed attempt at keeping it down. That’s fair. And besides, who could blame us if we just got carried away and ‘forgot’ about our bargain?”

“Mandy. That’s who.”

“Well, then her ungrateful ass should just be thankful you bought her those earplugs.”

Ian snorted before putting down the plate and leaning towards Mickey.

“In that case,” he whispered in a low, throaty voice right by Mickey’s ear, “somebody should tell her she should probably put them in now.”


End file.
